Vitality or Important Days Are Coming
by Magick
Summary: A piece that I have been compiling for the last few weeks. Love, children, and laughter are all a part of a happy home. But what is that home wasen't so happy?
1. Battles of the Infant Kind

Disclaimer- I own nothing but Tessa. All credit goes to Thomas Harris

This is just a funny little piece that popped into my mind while I was trying to remove sticky oatmeal from my daughter.

- ---

It had been a long day. First was the endless rounds of typically hopeless patients; the psychosomatics that didn't really want to get better. What they wanted was for him to confirm that they had yet _another _reason for spending copius ammounts of inherited money on therapy. Next was the ones sent there by the court. These were usually a little interesting, but not enough to change Dr. Lecter's view of them. A bunch of ill-mannered, brainwashed teenagers who thought they were invincible. Lastly, there were the actual patients. The ones with serious problems that needed his help. Unfortunatly, there weren't any that day.

Returning hope in the evenings was always an unfettered joy. The luxury of sitting quietly in front of the piano, or talking quietly with Clarice. He never tried to kid himself, she was the reason he never worked late, or any more then he had to. As he drove the commute back home that day, Dr. Lecter mused on the happenings of the last year. So much had happened that it seemed like a decade, and paradoxically, time flies when your having fun, and it seemed like mere hours. He never took for granted how happy she made him, and he would never allow himself to become blinded to all those little things she did for him. Those little things are what make love so enjoyable.." he mused.

Their house was a modest affair, but with a little paint and plaster, they had made the interior purely them. He still held the image of Clarice, smeared with blue paint and with her hands on her hips, glaring at him in mock anger. The commute was necessary, as they had both opted to live a decent distance away from the city. It was perfect. Dr. Lecter smiled to himself, lost in self-congratulations until he swung open the door.

The sound of chaos is impossible to pin down, but if you've ever been in the company of a hyper-active toddler, then you might have a fair idea of what that noise is like. As it was, he opened the door to the sound of a crash, followed in short order by giggling and a moan. "Clarice?" he called, hanging up his coat on the rack.

"In here!" she answered, sounding tired. The hallway was covered in a deep green runner, matching well with the pale, ivy colored walls. Turning the corner, Dr. Lecter had to bite his lip to keep from laughing.

The living room was a mess. Clarice was sitting cross-legged on the floor, in jeans and a soft yellow sweater. Facing her was a sight terrifying to some. Dr. Lecter was too naïve in the matter to know to be frightened. "Hello, love.." she mumbled, scooping up the pile of pillows that the baby had scattered. "Clarice," he began, not tearing his eyes from the funny little babe eyeing him back intently, "Clarice, darling. Is there something your not telling me?" Face flushed, she looked up at him innocently,

"No.. I don't think so, why?"

"Simply put, unless I've been away at work much longer then I thought, then there shouldn't be a baby in our house." A wry smile was tugging at his lips.

"Um.. You remember Tessa Jane, right honey?" She asked, scooping the 10-month old up and despositing her in his arms deftly.

Backing away slowly, she called back, "It's her dinner time, I'm going for a bath, foods in the fridge!" and she was off like a shot. Staring down at the child in his arms, Dr. Hannibal Lecter shrugged, "How much trouble can you really be?" he asked, giving Tessa a smile and ruffling her soft red curls.

How much trouble, indeed.

If the living room was a mess, then the kitchen was in the eye of the storm. Unaccustomed to holding a baby, Dr. Lecter simply set her on the floor as he opened the fridge door. There were two jars, one filled with green mush labeled 'Peas', and the other with a slime that was a pleasing color of royal blue, it said 'Blueberry Dessert'. "Obviously the peas." He said, a little smug, "I don't see why people make such a fuss." Turning back, he immediately realized that Tessa was no longer where he had left her.

Scanning the room, Dr. Lecter noticed a pair of chubby legs sticking out from the cupboard under the sink. He swooped down, snatching her up just as she reached for the Ajax cleanser. Sighing deeply, he gave her his best stern expression, Tessa just grinned back at him, proudly showing off her two front teeth. "Let's just give you dinner, okay Tessa?" he asked, she made a face and burbled back.

There was a lack of seating for the tot, so Dr. Lecter settled her on his lap, cracking open the jar of pungent peas. A plastic coated baby spoon sat on the table, and scraping a little of the paste, he fed her the first bite. He watched as her blue eys went wide, and she made a horrible face, promptly spitting it back out. Dr. Lecter looked down at his white shirt, now covered in green, he could feel the cold slime against his skin. "Sorry, Tessa.." he mumbled, pouring the peas into a bowl and microwaving them.

Back at the table, he blew gently on the spoon, cooling the food a little. This time she ate without complaint, though it was debatable as to weather she got more in her mouth of her face. "Good girl.." he said with a chuckle, manouvering the spoon back to her mouth. After half the bowl was gone, Tessa decided to up the ante, and wanted to feed herself. Grabbing for the spoonful of green peas, she upset the whole lot and it glopped onto her front. This seemed like a good game, and she grabbed at the stain on her pink overalls. By the end of the meal, his white shirt was covered in olive colored baby handprints, and Tessa's face was throughly green.

"I think you need a bath." He stated, and she answered in wet baby talk, liberally spattering his face. Shaking his head, he hoisted her back into her arms and set off for the spare bathroom. While adjusting the water, Tessa stayed happily in one place, tugging at the designs on the bathmat. Undressing her proved to be more difficult than he had previously thought, as she squirmed around, smearing more peas on everything she came in contact with. Her diaper was wet, so he quickly sluiced her off, before settling her in the water. With a facecloth, he tenderly began to remove the remains of her dinner, but he came to a slight quandry when he reaized that she had the peas in her hair too. Resting her against his hand, he lowered her into the water, carefully removing the mess. Tessa began to cry as some of the water splashed her face. She flailed around, sloshing water out of the tub.

The sound of a baby crying is enough to cause most people to panic, and quickly he finished and plucked the unhappy child from her now-green bathwater. Wrapping her in a thick blue towel, he rubbed her back soothingly. "Shh now, Tessa. No need to cry." He said softly, rocking back and forth until her tears stopped. "Good girl, now, should we get you dried off?" She patiently accepted the drying, but, when Dr. Lecter took her downstairs, she tensed up. "Oh dear.." he moaned, reaching the living room just in time to wrap her in a blanket, she relaxed. It was cooler down here, he noticed while searching for a diaper. Coming up victorious, he returned to Tessa.

Now, the mechanics of putting on a diaper are simple, but trying to get one on properly while the baby is wriggling and trying to escape, well, the difficulty increases exponentially. And, of course, once you succede, there's still the pajamas to deal with. Drawing out a sleeper, pale yellow and printed with ducks, he spread out the garment. The arms were simple enough, as was the torso and legs; it was where the torso and legs connected that gave the good doctor trouble. "What kind of ridiculous monkey suit is this!" he exclaimed, un-snapping the offending part for the third time.

"Alright.." he mumbled, tackling the problem with clinical scrutiny, "Now, this snaps here,.. this piece here,.. and that one under there! Done!" he exclaimed, smiling smugly to himself. He looked down at her face, little fists balled up and rubbing her eyes. Her rosebud mouth opened wide as she emitted a tiny, squeaking yawn. She whimpered a little as he sat down on the couch, laying her beside him.

Her hair was still damp, and he marvelled at the little ringlets. As she rubbed her eyes again, he watched her hands. Perfect little fingers, ended by diminuitive nails. Reaching out, he touched her cheek, it was so soft, but chilly. "Cold?" he asked, pulling her into his lap again and covering them both with the blanket. Tessa lay her head against his shoulder, and soon fell fast asleep. There was one last thing he didn't realize. A sleeping baby is a very effective sedative. And soon, lulled by her soft breathing and gentle weight, Dr. Lecter fell asleep too.

Clarice woke up a few hours later, disturbed by the sound of the doorbell. Shaking her head, she glanced over at the clock. 8pm, "Shit, I didn't mean to fall asleep!" Running down the stairs, she jerked open the door. A young, red haired woman stood on the other side; Sabrina, Tessa's mother. "Sabrina! Sorry, I fell asleep.." She smiled, Clarice had guessed her age to be somewhere between 19 and 21. "It's ok.. The little mite can be a real handful!" Guesturing for her to come inside, Clarice looked around for Hannibal.

Stepping over the threshold, Sabrina hung her coat on a peg. "I hope Tessa wasen't too much trouble," she apologized with a grin, "and thanks for taking her on such short notice." Clarice waved a hand dismissivly, heading for the living room.

"Don't give it another thought! It's a change." Sabrina nodded, biting her lower lip as they turned the corner.

"Now there's a sight I'd never thought I'd see.." Clarice whispered, giggling. Number One of the FBI's 10 Most Wanted, the infamous Dr. Hannibal Lecter; dark hair streaked with dried green peas, his shirt liberally coated in the same, and damp from bathwater, curled up under a mantle with a babe asleep against his chest. Both wore the almost unperceptable smiles of pleasant dreams.

Sensing a change, Dr. Lecter opened his eyes, yawning. "Oh, dear. Hello Sabrina.." he said, realizing how he must look. He moved a little to shift Tessa to the couch, she stirred and began to whimper. Shaking his head in mock despair, he tucked her back against his chest, trying unsucessfully to hide his pleased smile. "Hello Dr. Craim, do you think I might able to get my daughter back now?" She winked at Clarice, neither of them fooled by the tough-guy attitude. Realizing the hoplessness of the situation, Dr. Lecter reverted to his usual generous self. "Of course, and take the blanket, she seems to like it." And indeed Tessa seemed to.

After a few minutes of careful manouvering, and some quietly whispered goodbyes, Clarice watched as Sabrina's tail lights dissapeared. Hannibal was sitting in the kitchen, turning over the forgotten spoon in his fingers. The room had once been in the eye of the storm, apparently, the storm had not passed by without a token guesture of destruction. "Enjoy you nap?" he asked sarcastically, not looking up. Rolling her eyes, Clarice took the seat across from him, "No, but apparently you did."

"Little monster," he said with a motion that encompassed his appearance.

"And you think yours would be any better?" she tone was a little mocking. He nodded, giving her a smile, "Our children would be taught to like cold peas." She laughed, walking over to stand beside him. "You think?"

"Without a doubt." Her eyes looked a little distant when he glanced up at her.

"I hope our baby will be as lively."

"'Would be' Clarice." He replied without missing a beat. She looked down at him, taking his hands in hers. "No hon, will be." Recognition flashed like a flame in his maroon orbs. "Our baby?" he asked.

"Yup." She enjoyed the look on his face, "Our baby. I think Tessa was good practive for you."

He just hugged her and didn't bother to give her a reply.


	2. Little One, Little Two

Disclaimer- Mischa Lysette and Cara Clarice are mine... the rest belongs to Thomas Harris, I am not doing this for profit

Hey guys, here's part two!

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Clarice Starling woke early that morning, her face set in an almost silly grin. She lay still for a moment, revelling in the glow of early pregnancy. To be honest, most of the time it terrified her, but Hannibal had taken the news so well! "Two months down, seven more to go." She whispered, unable to repress a delighted giggle. Knowing her love wouldn't appreciate being woken so early –he had a lot of patients today-, she got out of bed and padded to the bathroom.

"I may not have morning sickness, but this going to the bathroom every two hours sure is annoying." She commented to her reflection. Earlier that month she had ordered a large batch of books from the internet, and today they should be arriving.

Not long after she had hopped out of the shower, Hannibal retreated to the kitchen to make breakfast. Clarice watched from the doorway as he stared down at the toaster, apparently absorbed in the glowing red element. "Morning hon." She said, wrapping her arms around his waist. "Hmm, morning Clarice." He kissed her cheek.

"Something wrong?"

"No, no, I was just pondering everything we will need for the new baby." She nodded, listing off the first few items that came to mind, "Lessee, cradle, clothes, diapers, bottles or, well, hmm." She ended, looking thoughtful. With his index finger, Hannibal smoothed away the worry lines in her forehead, "What is it?"

"Formula or breast fed?"

Dropping the hot toast on a plate, he glanced at her while picking up the butter. "Well, a mother's milk is always better, more natural. But if you don't feel comfortable with the idea, then formula is a decent alternitive." Handing over the marmalade, Clarice nodded in agreement, "I think I'll feed her myself then." Raising an eyebrow, Hannibal laughed softly, "It's a girl then?"

"Well, it sounds better then baby It!"

The books did indeed arrive that morning, the radio was playing country as Clarice lounged on the couch and cracked open the first one, 'Your Body-Your Baby'. For every month, there was a picture of 'what your baby probably looks like now', Clarice patted her still-flat stomach and chuckled, "Hardly flattering," She took in the photo image of the two month fetus, huge eyes in a head that looked too small, parchment skin, tiny heart that would already be beating. "Amazing.."

One week into her third month, Clarice developed morning sickness. Hannibal held her tightly when she was done, absently smoothing her hair. "Feeling better now?" he asked softly, she looked up and smiled, "Ok now.. but, I'm a little worried."

"About what?" he asked, shifting so she was leaning against him, his hands folded on her stomach. "We both know I can't go to a hospital."

"I've been thinking about that as well.. what would you say to creating something like Mason Verger's room for you? Simplicity, if I can't bring you to the hospital, then I shall simply have to bring the hospital to you."

"But if something should happen, it takes more then one person to perform a cesarian."

"I was considering contacting Barney.. we've been in touch on and off, and I know he would never turn us in to the authorities." Clarice smiled, and he could feel the tension draining out of her, "Perfect, just perfect."

That evening, Dr. Lecter began assembling the components of their in-home hospital. An incubator with bilirubin light; some surgical tools he kept hidden; a fair supply of anasthetic; and a fetoscope, a little blue device with a speaker, for listening to the baby's heart.

Clarice lay still in bed, only slightly propped up, as Hannibal lifted the hem of her shirt and flipped on the fetoscope. She tried not to laugh as he pressed it firmly against her lower stomach, and after a moment, her laughter died in her throat. From the speaker, she could hear the loud thump-thump of a heartbeat. She bit her lower lip to keep from crying out in joy, and noticed a similar expression on his face. But there was something wrong, there was something else there. Background noise, or, the heartbeat wasen't in sync. Hannibal tilted his head to the side, closing his eyes to cut out any other disturbances. He tilted the fetoscope to the side, moved a little to the left, and the sound was clear again. After just a few more adjustments, Clarice watched as he licked his lips, as thought they were suddenly dry. "I thought it was an echo, it's not uncommon. But it's not."

"Not an echo?" she repeated, a little confused.

"It's twins." He replyed after a long moment.

"Two babies?" Clarice took a shuddery breath, and grinned.

"Two!" he exclaimed, laughing.

Their joy was short lived. Just before her sixth month, the beginning of her third trimester, Clarice woke in the middle of the night to searing cramps. Sitting up as well as she could, she could see the blood. So much blood stained the sheets, she couldn't contained a strangled scream.

Hannibal sat bolt upright in bed, "What's wrong?" he asked, and then noticed the black-looking stain on the white sheets. His medical training clicked into place, wiping away her tears, he said softly, "Take deep breaths, listen to me, Clarice. Stay as still as you can." His voice calmed her, and she lay frozen, gasping for air, as tears flooded down her cheeks.

He carried her into the bathroom, running a warm shower. Clarice was unable to stand, and lay at the bottom of the tub, letting the water wash away the blood, as she clutched her stomach. "Please no.. God no... not my babies.. don't let anything happen to them... please..." she sobbed. He did all he could.

Clarice passed out as soon as the pain stopped, Hannibal was greatful for this. The miscarried child was a girl. Dr. Lecter wrapped the infant in a towel, letting his tears run freely, as though he could will his daughter to live. She was so small, she fit in the cup of his hands, still curled in the fetal position. Chalky colored vernix clung to her skin, it came away as he gently wiped the blood away.

Hannibal Lecter had seen death many times. Only losing his beloved Mischa had ever come close to this pain. "Cara," he murmured, she needed a name, "Cara Clarice Lecter." No father should ever have to bury his child, but that is what he had to do.

Later, he sat at the edge of the bed on which Clarice now slept. His hands were covered in blood and dirt, it smeared his face. Hannibal just stared down at the blue fetoscope, remembering the sound of his daughter's hearts. "Only a matter of time now." He said, as though a curse, wiping away the few tears that lingered. Gently, he lay his head on her stomach, shaking.

Then he heard it. A faint tremor against his cheek. His heart leaped as he grabbed for the abandoned fetoscope. There it was. Quick and strong, thump-thumping echoing in his head. Collapsing against Clarice he held her tightly and cried, "Alive! One of them is alive!"

Cara's death was shattering for Clarice. Desperate to save the other twin, Hannibal kept her on strict bed rest. Barney was called, and he said he was moer then happy to come. He said he felt honored.

"Hey Doc, why the big hurry? You said she isn't due till April, and that's three months away." There was a long, tense silence on the other end of the line, and then,

"It was twins, Barney. We lost one." There was a tone in the Doctor's voice that he had never heard before, a sort of lost tremor. "I'll be there as soon as I can."

Slowly, the pain of Cara's death began to fade, as they had to focus on the twin that had survived. Near the end of February, Clarice was allowed out of bed; by Barney, while Dr. Lecter was at work. Originally, he had planned to leave his practice completely, until Clarice told him (in no uncertain terms), that if he was going to hang around the house all day, it was going to drive her insane.

So, Clarice and Barney were watching day time talk-shows. "Oof!" she exclaimed, moving a little. "Something wrong?" he asked.

"Nope, just the little kick-boxer in my stomach!" The former orderly watched as her now sizable stomach shifted, seemingly of it's only free will. "Huh, well, that looked interesting!" he said, laughing loudly.

"Ughhh, it feels like he's doing actobatics in there." She grumbled.

"Hey! Kid! Settle down in there!" Barney said to her stomach, giving it a gentle poke.

Almost immediately, the baby kicked back. "I think you got his foot!" Clarice giggled as Barney repeated it, and got another kick. This game was still going on when Dr. Lecter arrived home.

He opened the door to gales of laughter. Turning into the living room, he privately overjoyed in the sound these walls haden't heard since Cara. "What are you doing?" he asked, looking a little confused. "Just picking on your baby, Doc."

"And how, might I ask, are you doing that?"

"Take a look." The larger man said, giving a practical demonstration on the baby-poking technique. After a moment, Hannibal gave it a try, and was rewarded with a strong kick. "Well! Hello to you to!" he laughed, delighted. The baby shifted, almost as if to hear better. "He knows who his Daddy is." Clarice commented, giving his hand a squeeze, "How was work?"

"Not nearly as amusing as this," he replied, poking again for emphasis.

"Oooh," she mumbled, rolling away, "stomach is off-limits now, my guts feel like they've been re-arranged!" The response was good-natured laughter.

It was just after lunch, on the 25th of March. Clarice was due in a little under two weeks, Dr. Lecter was at work, and Barney was tidying up after lunch. The final touches on the nursery had been completed the night before. Clarice had walked, well, waddled into the kitchen when it felt like someone had tightened a great belt around her waist. Breathing out, she settled down in a chair. "Hey, Barney?" He looked up from the plate he was setting in the copboard, "Yeah?"

"Could you pass me the phone?" he just shrugged his wide shoulders and handed it over.

Clarice twisted the cord in her fingers as she waited for Hannibal's secretary to pick up. To her credit, the secretary patched her through right away. "Hello, this is Dr.-"

"Honey," she interrupted, "Do you think you could come home now?"

"Is anything wrong?" he sounded alert and anxious now.

"Nothinngggggg!" she hissed, as aother contraction tightened.

"Clarice, is it the baby?" he asked, already grabbing his coat.

"Yeah, baby's coming." She said, catching her breath.

Barney helped Clarice to her feet, keeping an arm around her waist. "Walking is good for labour.." she muttered, leaning against him for support when the strongest pain yet hit her. Barney flipped on the sterio as they passed it, the radio was playing old rock and roll. "Ha! And he said that he refused to have his child born to rock music.." she said in a strained voice. Barney walked her in funny box-steps, making faces and singing along to the music. Soon, they were laughing between the increasing contractions. "Boy or girl?" she asked.

"Well, since you and the Doc say boy, I'm gonna disagree, just to be different."

Meanwhile, lunch hour traffic was slow as molasses, and Hannibal was taking every short-cut he knew. "I'm going to be a father," he kept repeating to himself. Despite everything, it was still a shock, now that the moment was upon him.

Just over an hour after he returned home, Clarice gave birth to a 7lb 3oz , baby girl. The whole process took just under two hours. She was delivered by her father, and he wrapped her quickly. Clarice smiled, looking tired and dazed, but happy more then anything else.

"It's a girl.." Hannibal laughed, tenderly cleaning away the excess blood and fluid, before passing the bundle to her mother. "Mischa Lysette." Clarice suggested, staring down at her little miracle. "Beautiful." He said, closing his eyes briefly.

It was at that point that little Mischa decided to free her arms from the swaddling blanket. As her tiny hands appeared, Clarice took a sharp breath, "Hannibal, look." She said, coaxing the baby to grab her finger. Mischa Lysette latched on tightly with her left hand. "Six." The doctor said wryly, counting her perfect little fingers.

Black hair, and eyes that flickered somewhere between grey and blue, but highlighted with deep red. "She'll have you coloring," Clarice stated, and Barney nodded his agreement. "Definatly," the large man patted her cheek, ever-so gently, "are you Daddy's girl?" She just closed her eyes and went to sleep.


	3. Both Sides of The Fence

Disclaimer- most of the characters belong to Thomas Harris, a few are mine. I am not doing this for profit

Ok guys, this is me, Magick. I was bored at work, and the night before I had been reading some wonderfully tear-jerking angsty fics. I havent been getting many reviews, so please, they are VERY welcome. And, welcome to part three

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I was four when Dr. Hannibal Lecter and his wife Clarice were caught. Caught, captured, apprehended, murdered, either way, the result was the same. They were taken from their home and justice was served. The agent's form of justice was loud. Guns were drawn as they broke down the door, a couple of shots were fired as a warning. I was sitting in the stairwell, he knew I was there. My Dad always knew where I was. I think the police were surprised when my Mom and Dad decided to go quietly; and I know they were surprised when my Mom told me to go get my shoes. Looking back, I think my Mom was trying to keep everything calm, for me.

Looking back, she should have run. They both should have, but hindsight is always 20/20.

I remember bringing my shoes over to my Mom, there was a knot in the laces. I was scared, but I wasen't able to comprehend what was happening. I should have been terrified. They took me away then, said they would keep me safe. The FBI agent with me was nice, but she told me that I couldn't see my parents anymore. The nice agent, I admit her name escapes me now, seemed worried when I didn't cry.

She didn't understand; Dad always told me what a brave girl I was, how much I was growing into a little version of my Mom. I couldn't see my Mom to know if it was alright to cry, so I didn't.

It's funny what seems important when your scared. For weeks, I had been trying to copy my Father's smile, the one Mom said she could never resist- my idea was that, with the smile, I could have cookies and ice cream for dinner, instead of what my parent's called 'real food'. So, I looked up at the agent, noticing that a few more had gathered, and assumed my best 'lecturing mom' tone. "I'm not s'pose to talk to strangers, I'm gonna go see my Mommy and Daddy now, they'll worry if I don't." and gave her that smile.

Everyne laughed, and I remember very clearly one man commenting that there was no doubt about my blood-line. Everyone laughed, and I was confused. I just wanted to be in my home with my parents. I tried, but I couldn't help it, I cried.

Three months is a long time to wait. In retrospect, it wasen't a long trial at all, especially considering how much had to be covered. Not long, but when your four, it seems like a small eternity. During that time, I was set up in an orphanage. Kind of ironic, considering both my parents were alive, even if I wasen't allowed to contact them. The other children stayed away, as did most of the nuns that ran the place. I was alone, but my Dad always told me that good things come to those who wait. So I waited, and to pass the time, I prayed. I prayed to keep my hope alive.

I'm greatful to them now, that they never let me see the trial.

The judge decided to make an example of my parents, he responded to the public's call for blood. I can't believe that my parent's had expected that decision, but I know they weren't naïve enough to discount it completely.

I can't forgive the court, but they did let me see them, one last time.

Daddy made me promise to keep smiling, no matter what. Mommy told me never to stop fighting for what I know is right. They told me they loved me, and how proud they were of the little woman I was becoming.

I thought it was unfair that they were kept in separate cells. My Mom told me to give Dad a kiss for her, if I could.

I learned a long time ago that they were never given the chance to tell eachother Goodbye, or I love you. And it took me a lot longer to realize, They didn't need to.

Both sides of the Law commit murder. The only difference is that one side uses the word "Justice" and thinks it makes all the hurt go away. It dosen't, and the victims are still just as dead.

Money will never be an issue for me, but I have nothing to buy. No birthday presents, or Christmas mornings to look forward to anymore. Not for almost twenty years. Justice took my birthdays and Christmas time, I robbed me of the chance to have my Father walk me down the aisle, or to have my Mom tell me that all men are jerks after my first broken heart. Justice gave their lives to God, and he wouldn't give them back!

Sorry, I'm rambling. It's like opening the floodgates sometimes, and I lose track. You're a very good professor of Law, Mrs. Davis. I enjoy your class, and the University is lucky to have you. Unfortunaty, I don't like being used as a test subject. I enrolled under an alias for a reason. What finally clued you in?

My eyes? Their the same as my Father's. So is the polydactly, extra fingers are rather noticable. Maybe it's just the way I look like my Mother, Dad said I had her smile.

My real name? Mischa Lysette Lecter.

Is insanity genetic?

Oh, I'm not crazy Mrs. Davis, and I'm no doctor. But I do believe in genetics.

You see, I don't like rude people either.

- ---

So? What did you think?

Reviews are welcomed with open arms. Constructive criticism is greatly appreciated (I can always learn more!) Flames will be used as paper fans in the summer, and heat in the winter.


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